Sengoku Stories: Tales Across Time
by ImpracticalDemon
Summary: A collection of my shorter stories, vignettes, and drabbles for Ikemen Sengoku. From humour, to slice of life, to romance. Includes mature works. First up: Fashion Show, with Uesugi Kenshin (T with hints) Current: A Spoonful of Saké (Uesugi Kenshin) [fluff]
1. Fashion Show

**Author's Note:** Written by request for **Vespe** ~ I hope you enjoy this!

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 **Fashion Show**  
(Kenshin x MC)

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I broached the subject to Kenshin that evening, as we sat together sipping _sake_ and watching the last rays of sunlight fade from the sky. The warmth of the day still lingered pleasantly in wood and stone, but the soft breeze that had been ruffling the ends of my hair for the past quarter hour now held the promise of a chilly evening, and made me glad for the soft shawl I'd brought out with me. It was an unusual, varicoloured pale blue, lined with white - a gift from Kenshin, of course.

"So… you know that I've been working on several new pieces lately?" It was arhetorical question, since he always remembered what I told him about my projects.

"Yes - are they ready to show me?" He smiled with genuine enthusiasm at the prospect of seeing my latest creations, and I had to smile back. It still made me ridiculously happy to see such warmth in eyes that had once been so cold, especially when he was smiling over something other than the prospect of battle.

"They are… well, almost. But I - my staff and I - would like to introduce them to you a little differently than usual. And I'm hoping that you'll allow me to invite a few others as well."

"Invite?" His head tilted quizzically, as he parsed my words. I instinctively looked for the old jealousy and fear that once would have been there at the prospect of involving others in anything that was truly important to me. But his expression seemed to hold only curiosity. "Will it be a party then? A celebration?"

This time I'm couldn't stop myself from beaming at him - he'd understood it exactly! It was like him to put together the pieces so quickly.

"Yes! You see, where I'm from, designers" - he knew the term by now, and was fully on-board with the idea that designing was its own skill, although he'd gotten there by way of an analogy to swords and smithing - "showcase their new pieces as collections, usually with a unifying theme of some kind. They host a grand gala, and invite the wealthy, and the famous, and the well-connected, and so on" - I didn't want to get derailed by getting into a discussion about fashion media - "and they hire models show off the new clothing."

"Ah." I caught the edge of something like relief in Kenshin's tone, and realized that although he was so much better - entire worlds and galaxies better! - than he had been, he had still been uncomfortable at the idea of me personally modelling my outfits for somebody other than him. Not that I would!

I hurried on, so as to make what I had in mind for the here and now perfectly clear to him. I knew he'd be supportive of whatever I suggested - within fairly wide limits, these days - but I had no desire to push any boundaries with this particular proposal.

"I'm not suggesting doing any of that stuff - inviting all your chief vassals or something! - for this party, I promise. But it would be fun - for me and for the women who've been working with me - to put a bit of excitement into showing off the new clothes." I noticed that he had emptied his drink, and lifted the bottle to pour more for him.

Kenshin held out his cup to me with amusement crinkling the corners of his light eyes, and no trace of shadow marring his beautiful features. "I am grateful to you for sparing me from an invasion of guests, but if you truly wanted it, I'm sure I could convince my vassals to demonstrate their appreciation for your talent." I had a sudden vision of Kenshin compelling some of his more hidebound vassal warlords - and there were several - into gushing over new fall colour combinations and innovative stitching. It made me snicker involuntarily.

"That's okay, but thank you for offering, Kenshin. What I really want to do is invite you - of course - and Sasuke, Shingen, and Yukimura, and perhaps two or three other men of the castle staff - at your discretion - and then most of the women of the castle, …and maybe the two cloth merchants I deal with most often -"

"And here I thought it wouldn't be an invasion," murmured Kenshin. When I blushed - because I had gone maybe a little farther than I'd meant to for first introducing the idea - he gently brushed a tendril of hair from my face, and then traced my jaw with his fingers. My mind had been firmly on my fashion show, but his touch left heat in its wake, as it so often did.

"I will agree to this party of yours, but on one condition." He pressed a sweet-tasting kiss to my lips. "You are to sit and pour for me whenever you are at liberty to do so." His next kiss caressed the soft skin beneath my ear. "I won't have you leave me to be waited on by other women, this time."

My flushed skin had a lot more to do with his kisses than with his words, by this point, but I did have enough self-possession left to give him what I hoped was a mildly reproachful stare.

"You said you'd forgiven me for that, um, unfortunate mistake on my part, Kenshin!"

The first party I'd tried to organize for the women of Kasugayama had been undertaken in a misguided attempt to demonstrate that Kenshin wasn't actually a woman-hater. The upshot had been that Kenshin had been forced to endure being served drinks by an endless-seeming queue of excited women, while I'd ignored him with the best of intentions, as well as to try to keep my co-conspirators in line. Shingen had been brilliant, of course, but Sasuke had been more confusing than charming - which was odd, because I knew that he _could_ be surprisingly charming - and Yukimura had managed to offend half his admirers and turn the other half into _tsundere_ -fangirls (Sasuke's term, not mine).

At that point in my thoughts, Kenshin lifted my half-finished _sake_ bowl to my lips with inimitable grace, and all thoughts of everything and everyone else scattered from my brain. I sipped obediently, my eyes fixed on his well-known, oh-so-well-loved features.

"There was nothing to forgive, as I've told you." He set down the bowl and pulled me closer to him, setting me on his lap, and pressing a longer, more lingering kiss to my lips, slipping his tongue barely between them as though savouring the quality of the _sake_ I'd just drunk.

"Ahhh, yes… Kenshin…" But I had no idea if I was agreeing with him, or just asking him not to stop what he was doing. Probably both, but who cared?

"Of course you may have your celebration" - he kissed me more deeply, his tongue winding with mine for a long moment - "and you may invite whomever you choose" - his next kiss stole my breath, and his hands on the back of my head, and on my waist, were possessive in the very best way - "as long as you promise to pour my drinks, whenever you are free." He moved his face away from mine, a little. "Do you agree to those terms?"

I think I would've agreed to almost anything at that point, if he'd asked me. Fortunately for my thoroughly love-and-lust-addled brain, there was no need to think.

"Yes… absolutely." If it sounded like I was agreeing to far more than devoting myself to pouring him _sake_ at my fashion show, that was just fine, in my opinion.

Kenshin rose, drawing me up with him, and holding me so that I was practically moulded to his lean, muscled body. My knees were weak from far more than _sake_.

"Let's go in, shall we? I have other things I wish to discuss with you now."

 **[END]**

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 **A/Note:** My first Kenshin drabble, and I think I'd like to write more about the proposed fashion show :) We'll see. Thank you, so very much, to the many kind people in the Ikesen fandom who have read and commented on my stories thus far. ~ _Imp_


	2. Sweet Success (or, Nobunaga's Kiss)

**A/Note:** I was fortunate enough to win a piece of art from lulidrafts on tumblr, and we got to talking about Ikesen characters while discussing possible scenes. Ms. Luli was working on some steamy Nobunaga art at the time, and asked if I'd be interested in writing a story for it. I hope that you enjoy the result of the collaboration! The Nobunaga art is reproduced (by permission) in the tumblr version of the story.

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 **Sweet Success** (or, Nobunaga's Kiss)

The corporate gala was always a black-tie affair, and the one time that the designers—most of them—wore their own creations, although not necessarily creations they shared with the rest of the world. After all, haute couture and comfort rarely went hand-in-hand, and designers had the luxury of making outfits tailored to other than runway-model proportions when sewing for themselves. Lumi had chosen to wear a plain, but beautifully cut, little black dress, since there would be a riot of designs and colour aboard the luxury yacht chartered for the event. She preferred to highlight her work on others.

It wasn't the first big party that Lumi had attended with Nobunaga since they'd started dating, but it was the first business affair at which Nobunaga had been Lumi's guest, instead of the other way around. She'd worried at first that he'd be put off by being reduced to the role of companion, but in retrospect she should have known better. For one thing, it was virtually impossible to 'reduce' Nobunaga regardless of role; for another, he was endlessly curious, especially about those things of importance to Lumi. He'd been quietly entertained to find himself more of a bystander than a central figure, while Lumi took the lead, greeting both colleagues and wealthy patrons alike with her usual candid charm. At least, that's what Nobu called it. Lumi's boss frequently rolled their eyes over the way the young designer tended to speak her mind, for good or for ill.

"I believe that I have helped to raise your status among your peers," commented Nobunaga, as they slowly made their way off the boat at the end of the glittering evening. His dark eyes glinted with amusement, and one corner of his mouth curled up to match.

"How could you not? I got to show up with the city's most wanted—I mean most eligible—bachelor on my arm—"

"Putting to rest the rumours that our relationship was no more than wishful thinking on your part—"

"I never started those!"

They stopped beside a sinfully expensive black car—the kind that more or less _required_ a vanity plate—and Nobunaga pulled Lumi into his arms, enveloping her in warmth and the delightful scent of his cologne.

"I know that, of course."

"Of course."

"And I found it rather enchanting to be your trophy for the evening." She felt his lips against her hair, and knew he was smiling.

Lumi huffed a small laugh. "As if! But yes, it was different for _me_ to be looking down from a podium at _you_ , even for just a little bit."

"I was pleased to watch you receive the recognition you deserve. In fact"—one arm tightened around her waist, and a strong hand suddenly cupped her chin and cheek—"it was rather intoxicating to be in your world for a little while." His lips found hers, demanding and sure, and his fingers slid around her face to tangle in her hair. She shivered from something other than the night air as his other hand caressed the muscles of her lower back and derrière through the soft, clingy material of her dress.

For a long moment, Lumi gave into the kiss. She could feel the aroused tension in Nobu's body from each point at which they touched, and desire buzzed in her ears and flushed her cheeks and skin. With an effort, she pushed back a little when they finally came up for air.

"We should go home, Nobunaga. This is, ah, awfully public." She was breathless, and conscious that it was exciting to embrace so intimately in full view of any other party-goers in search of their cars.

"Oh? You don't look like you want to stop—and most people are taking cabs, or being chauffeured."

It was true, and the parking lot was mostly deserted, as well as rather dimly lit. The realization that the venue continued to ignore all requests for better lighting decided Lumi in favour of going home, even though her body was suggesting that another kiss was in order. Resolutely, she turned her face away as best she could.

"Unhand me, sir! I wish to depart."

Her flippant, challenging words made Nobunaga chuckle. He pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her neck, causing her to gasp and lick her lips, but then he released her.

"Yes ma'am." He held open the car door in the manner of a respectful chauffeur, but his gaze was hot and hungry, and seemed to roam over her body as she tried to slide gracefully into the front seat. When he leaned in after her to buckle her in—ignoring her feeble protests—he paused to breathe a few words into her ear: "You may find it a long ride home, my dear." The hand he rested briefly on her thigh seemed to convey heat to her whole body.

Lumi took several careful breaths as Nobunaga closed her door and walked unhurriedly around the car to the driver's seat. Tonight had been _her_ night. She'd received praise from her colleagues, recognition from her employers, and public respect from a number of VIPs—including several top models. Nobunaga had finally gotten to see her wholly within her own sphere, and he'd been impressed. And turned on. That thought was exhilarating.

"Nobunaga…"

"Yes? How may I be of service?"

The car hummed into life, and Nobunaga backed smoothly out of the parking spot. She found him almost indecently sexy most of the time, but there was an extra patina of sexiness when he was driving, especially at night. She'd have to be careful.

"What do you think of this dress?"

"That's an odd question."

"Still."

There was a smile in his voice as he answered, "I like the way it looks on you."

"Just the look?"

"Hmm?" She saw him consider her words. "…No. I suppose there's the material, too. It's smooth, and as soft to the touch as it looks, which isn't always the case. Many pretty materials look nicer than they feel."

"You're right, as usual." Lumi smiled at him, and then ran her hands down the fabric of the dress, deliberately reveling in the wonderful material she'd chosen. "Of course, it's rather thin"—she casually stroked the fabric clinging to the swell of one breast, aware that her inhibitions were submerged in champagne—"but it breathes well, and has enough give in it to show off the curves of the wearer's body." She thought she heard the tiniest hitch of indrawn breath from the city's hottest bachelor (as voted by the listeners of the city's biggest radio station).

"Lumi." The hint of command in his voice made her look over at him. However, she gave him a cheery smile instead of the lovelorn—lustlorn?—look she was afraid she had too much of the time when they were together.

"Sorry, Nobu! I didn't mean to bore you…" She clasped her hands girlishly—and quite obviously deliberately—under her breasts. Nobunaga started to say something, but he stopped abruptly when she started to play with her visibly-hardening nipples, first stroking, and then pinching them, before forcing her hands away—and it was an effort—to start pulling hairclips and pins out of her hair.

There was a low chuckle from the driver's side. "Power suits you surprisingly well. You are most enticing, this evening."

"Am I?" Lumi ran her fingers through her hair, releasing it from its artful knots. Without looking up, she leaned back in her seat, toed off her pretty heels, and put her feet up on the dash. The skirt of her dress slid up her thighs revealing smooth skin and the hard-won muscle of her lengthy walk to and from work. "Oh dear," she murmured, giggling. She couldn't help the giggle—she didn't think she'd ever had Nobunaga's attention quite like this before, and it was fun. Among other things.

After a brief, and wholly fake, struggle to tug down her skirt, Lumi tilted her head winsomely at Nobunaga. His sensuous mouth was curved up at one corner, as though he were fighting a smile. One large hand reached out to stroke her thigh, and she felt her eyes slide part-way closed.

"Mmmmm…" Her head tilted back involuntarily when his fingers began to brush against the rapidly dampening silk of her panties, just at the top of her leg.

"Oh?"

"Oh, yes—definitely." She wriggled around in the seat a little, unabashedly pressing herself toward Nobu's hand. The motion against her intimate folds became more direct and more satisfying. With a view to sharing the pleasure, she reached out—a little blindly—and traced her lover's cheek and chin before leaning even closer to him in order to find and caress the hard bulge just below his belt. A sharp intake of breath acknowledged her foray, which pleased her. Nobunaga rarely gave up his tremendous control.

"I don't know whether to drive faster—mmm, that's _very_ nice—or stop, for fear of crashing."

"You won't… _nnnnngh_ … crash." The silk panties were wet through now, and his fingers were pressed as firmly against her clit as their positions allowed, though not directly against her slick skin—quite possibly on purpose, knowing him. Her toes were curled against the invisible glovebox, and not-so-small jolts of sensation made it difficult to focus.

There was an intense silence, as they each concentrated on the other's touch, and presumably—in Nobunaga's case—the road. Lumi had no idea where they were, exactly. She prayed they were close to her place, because she knew Nobu would insist on driving until they got there, since she'd made it a challenge of sorts. Just as she was about to try for a glimpse of their whereabouts, the car slowed and made a sharp turn followed by a sudden stop. They were in the driveway of Lumi's townhouse-apartment building.

Nobunaga pulled away long enough to turn off the engine and unbuckle his seatbelt, and then he twisted around and kissed her hard enough to bruise, one hand tangling tightly in her hair, and the other sliding up her thigh and rubbing insistently between her legs. Lumi found herself gripping the sides of her seat as she pressed her whole body into the kiss. A deep moan escaped her, even as Nobu's lips and tongue claimed her mouth. She could smell the musky scent of sex.

" _Nnnnnngh_ … should go… _mmmmm_ …"

The hand driving her wild slid away, and the sharp click of her seatbelt made her stifle her protest at the loss of heat and pressure. Nobunaga's mouth suddenly left hers, and closed over the engorged tip of one breast, teasing it through the material of her dress in a way that left her panting with desire. She wanted to respond with—with something—but she couldn't unclench her fingers from her seat. When he lifted his head and grinned at her no-doubt lust-filled countenance, she just licked her lips and smiled back.

"You want to go inside, I take it?" His words might sound cool, but his feverish eyes and flushed cheeks told a different story. His attempt at control gave Lumi the incentive she needed to uncurl her fingers and reach out to grip and then rub the tip of the hard shaft pressing against the fine material of his dress pants. His breath hitched and she heard herself chortle. She'd always wondered what a chortle sounded like—now she knew.

"Yes… Please, my lord"—it was lovers' game between them, to be lord and maiden—"please do come inside…"

They both laughed, a little breathlessly, at her unsubtle emphasis on the last words, and then in the time in took her to blink, and register his absence, Nobunaga was opening the passenger-side door of the car and lifting Lumi into his arms. They kissed again, passionately, with all the promise of a night's love-making ahead of them, and Lumi muttered, "Key. Damn—"

"I grabbed your purse." Amazingly, he had. She didn't protest leaving the shoes.

Somehow, they managed to get into the building—it had a key code—and then Nobunaga took the stairs two at a time before setting Lumi down in front of her door, at her slightly muffled insistence. _Find key, put key in lock, open door—_

The door swung open and Nobunaga seized her from behind, caressing her breasts before spinning her around into his arms. His lips closed on hers as he walked her backward into her small living room, kicking the door closed behind him. She automatically started to unbutton his shirt, returning the kiss and stretching up a little to grind her hips against him. He stopped when her back hit the wall beside the archway into her kitchenette, and let her tug the now-open shirt down off his shoulders to hang on his wrists.

"Cufflinks…" they muttered at the same time, panting. Lumi grabbed for a wrist and stared blindly at the offending jewellery. _Focus_. Her fingers were usually pretty good with clasps and clips and stuff like this, but even as she gripped the gold, falcon-engraved cuff-links, Nobunaga's tongue swept over the curve of her ear and she faltered.

"…Do you… want these off… _nnnnnggghhh_ … or not?"

"Mm-hm."

His teeth joined the assault on her ear, and heat swept her body. _Sometimes it's good to be stubborn._ Years of helping models dress and undress came to her rescue, and for thirty seconds Lumi tuned out everything but the— _stupid, freaking, why is he so **extra** anyway, who wears these things anymore_— cufflinks, which finally dropped to the floor. The shirt followed in a whisper of expensive silk-linen blend, and then demanding fingers clasped the back of her head, and a strong arm pulled her firmly against a hard body.

"Is this private enough, Lumi?" Nobunaga bent his mouth to her neck, and she whimpered.

"…'essss…" Her body was writhing against his, and she craved his touch—on her breasts, belly, and thighs, and— _so much_ —on and inside her wet, sensitized, most intimate places.

"Good…" He kissed her lips again, but lightly, teasingly, although his eyes were burning. "Now I will kiss you all over… in celebration of your… mmm… so notable successes…" The words ghosted against her parted lips, and she swallowed. The muscles of her core clenched and fluttered in anticipation.

For a short time there was silence, and then Lumi moaned, quivering. Her head tipped back against the wall, and her knees started to buckle. One hand twined itself in Nobunaga's hair as he knelt before her, at once servant and master. It was almost unbearable.

" _Nnnnnnnnnnggggghhhhh!_ ….Aaaaaahh!…" Pleasure, hot and sweet, coursed through her, and her hips would have bucked hard, but for the strong hands clamped around the tops of her thighs. _His lips, his tongue, his mouth!_ "… _Nnnnnnnnnggggghhhhhh!_ Nobu— _Nobunaga_!"

It was one hell of a kiss.

 **[END]**


	3. A Spoonful of Saké

**A/Note:** A fluffy story about Kenshin, as a gift fic for **Silversparkz** on tumblr. Silver draws adorable chibis, as well as Ikebuns. By which I mean Bunnies. Just to be clear.

~ Imp

PS "Shiru" is taken from Shiruba(a), the Japanese pronunciation of the word Silver.

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 **A Spoonful of** ** _Sake_** **(Makes the Medicine Go Down)**

"I never get sick."

Shiru nodded agreeably. As always, it was best to be patient with Kenshin when he was genuinely hurting. Right now, he had a raging fever, and his cool, pleasant voice was a raspy shadow of its usual self.

"I understand that, Kenshin-sama. I'm worried about you, though. …And I was hoping you'd let me take care of you, today. You're always looking out for me."

"Hmm…" His brilliant, mismatched eyes searched her face, and then turned fretfully away. But he put down the kimono he'd been about to change into, and Shiru took that as tacit permission to come over and gently smooth his light sleeping yukata back into place. She tried not to frown when she realized it was damp with sweat.

"I asked one of the maids to help me make you a drink I think you'll like," she said, laying her hand against his flushed cheek. "Why don't you let me fetch a clean yukata for you, and pour you a drink, and then—when you're ready—you can rest your head in my lap?"

He hadn't seemed well enough to get up, when she'd gone down to the kitchen to concoct something pleasant to soothe his sore throat. She'd taken a bit longer than she'd expected, since she was more used to buying cold remedies off the shelf than making her own, but it had been a surprise to return just in time to prevent him from getting dressed for the day.

Kenshin stilled as soon as she touched his cheek, and after a moment the corners of his mouth turned up, and his expression relaxed. He covered her hand with his own. "As you wish, Shiru. And what is in this drink of yours?"

Even unwell, even with his skin paler than usual behind the flush of fever, Kenshin was a beautiful man. His true smile, the one that reached his eyes, was luminous. More than that, though, Shiru was conscious of gratitude that this incredible man loved _her_ —that he would listen to her, and be guided by her, and was soothed by her touch.

" _Sake_ , of course." They both smiled at that. "Warmed with a few extra spices, a touch of ginger, some honey, and a hint of citrus."

Kenshin shook his head, although Shiru caught a hint of a wince. She suspected he had a brutal headache.

"That sounds terrible. Did Shingen help you? He's been known to abuse good _sake_ like that."

Shingen had helped, of course, and Shiru knew the truth was written on her face. She had to laugh a little, although underneath it all lurked the anxiety that Kenshin was genuinely unwell, and even "just a bad cold" could be dangerous, in this era of limited medical knowledge and resources. On the other hand, Kenshin had an excellent physician, Matsumoto- _sensei_ , and she'd alerted him to his lord's condition.

"Shingen may have had something to do with it. But I thought it tasted nice, and I've drunk enough _sake_ with you to know what's acceptable."

"Then you can pour some for me. But if it tastes like medicine, I'll tell you so!"

"And drink it anyway? For me?" Shiru had helped him to change into a fresh, cool yukata, and wiped the sweat from his face. He looked much more comfortable now, and she hoped that the physician would come soon with the medicine she'd requested—mostly something to reduce the fever and help Kenshin sleep. In the meantime, she poured him a cup of her own concoction, filling it right to the brim as he preferred when drinking.

"Yes. For you." He drank deeply—as deeply as he did with regular _sake_ —which was a true testament to his trust in Shiru. Funny how such a small gesture had so much meaning. Mind you, in a world where assassination was a constant possibility, it wasn't so small.

"And?" She took the cup from him.

"It's terrible, just as I expected."

"How unkind of you, Kenshin-sama!"

He smirked a little, and she was pleased to see such a playful look on him.

"I warned you that I would tell you the truth."

Before Shiru could respond, there was a soft "excuse me" at the door. When Kenshin growled a command to enter—he never did well with interruptions of their time together—Matsumoto- _sensei_ came in to examine him, and to hand Shiru some medicine. The physician was brusque, but thorough. Kenshin was a better patient for him than Shiru had expected—impatient, but mostly non-threatening—and she put it down to Kenshin's preference for those (very few) people who didn't treat him with awe, if not outright servility.

After Matsumoto- _sensei_ had gone, and Kenshin had taken the medicine to reduce his fever, Shiru sat at the head of the futon and laid a soft towel over her lap. She was trying not to smile at the God of War's almost childish expression of displeasure over the taste of the physician's brew.

"Will you come rest your head on my lap, now?"

Kenshin frowned, then looked away slightly. "I still need to finish the drink you brought. There was more in the jug."

Shiru was about to protest that he'd called it 'terrible' and—by implication—an 'abuse of _sake_ '. Then she realized that it had probably tasted a good deal better than the _real_ medicine he'd just had, and possibly hadn't even been that bad to begin with.

"I'll pour you another cup, Kenshin-sama." Then her amusement got the better of her. With an irrepressible tremor of laughter in her voice, she added. "I'm pleased you would do this for me."

Kenshin made a small noise that sounded remarkably like 'hmph'. He extended his cup to her in haughty silence. Just before lifting Shiru's 'abused' _sake_ to his lips, he commented: "I said that I would drink it. I never go back on my word."

She took the empty cup from him, and then resumed her position in the place of his pillow. She hoped she hadn't truly offended him, but she didn't think so.

"I know that, Kenshin-sama. It's one of the many things I love about you."

"You can be rather foolish at times, Shiru." His voice was soft, and had regained a little bit of its usual musical timbre.

"Yes, beloved. I know that too."

Kenshin's settled himself in the futon, with his head on Shiru's lap. She felt his muscles slowly relax.

"I'm glad you are here. Don't… push yourself too hard… trying to look after me… though. I'm not… really all that sick."

She gently stroked his fine pale hair away from his brow. He was already asleep, she thought. And she'd be there when he woke up, because that's what he really meant, and she knew that, too.

 **[END]**


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